He cut her off, turning away. “Mrs. Mayhew. I see something must be irksome if you have come out into the sun.”
“As a matter of fact it is,” said the irritated woman. “Your Grace! I must object! These—” She waved a hand at Sera’s sisters. “Women—I suppose one must call them—they are terrible influences. You’ve been positively invisible for nearly a fortnight and—frankly—this is all seeming like a terrible waste of time.”
“Mother.” Mary was in the mix now, calling from her place with the other unmarried women.
“I suppose I should take my shot,” Lady Lilith said.
She hefted the ball high as Mrs. Mayhew pushed on. “My husband is quite powerful and Mary is quite in demand. We’ve passed up numerous invitations to other parties with other eligible men who—you’ll have to admit—are far more eligible considering your circumstances.”
Sera had to admit, Mrs. Mayhew was an excellent mother. She knew what bull she wished for her daughter and was not willing to stand by when she might seize it by the horns.
It was difficult not to see echoes of her own mother in the woman.
And, in those echoes, hints of what would either be a great success or an unmitigated failure.
“Mrs. Mayhew,” said Haven, “I think perhaps—”
“Mother, please!” Mary was marching across the field.
Mrs. Mayhew was having none of it. “I should think it would not be out of line for you to find time to walk with my daughter, so you might know her beyond her enormous dowry!”
The woman was impressive. And Sera would be lying if she said she did not enjoy Haven looking so hunted.
“Are you out of your mind?” Quiet Mary was quiet no more. Indeed, it seemed the apple did not fall far from the impressive tree.
Haven was in a bind. And, instinctively, he attempted to reverse any embarrassment that the elder Mayhew might have caused the younger. “I assure you, Miss Mayhew, your dowry is of no consequence.”
Mary paid Haven little attention. “Mother! You cannot simply rage at a duke and hope it ends in the marriage you want for me!”
“Not just a marriage I wish for you, darling, a marriage you wish for yourself!”
The other mothers had stopped both fanning themselves and pretending not to watch. All three of the aristocratic ladies were watching with wide eyes and open mouths. Caleb, for his part, was feeding a piece of roast goose to one of the dogs.
“Oi! Out of the way!” called Sesily. “Lilith is throwing!”
“Tossing!” Seline interjected.
“Ladies, may I suggest we remove this conversation to inside?” Sera asked, attempting for calm. “Or at least away from the assembled audience?”
Sera heard Sophie’s “Oh, no,” in concert with Seline’s “Look out!” and turned just in time to see the ball careening toward them. She leapt out of its path, but Mrs. Mayhew was not so lucky. The ball crashed into her foot and ricocheted toward the kitty as she cried out in pain and nearly toppled over on top of Haven.
“I am so sorry!” Lady Lilith cried from her place at the end of the field.
“Nonsense! ’Twas an excellent shot! Look how close you got it!”
“She hit a woman, Seline,” Sophie pointed out.
“Oh, it’s not like she didn’t deserve it. I wish we could hit every woman who behaves so abominably. Lady Lilith, is it possible your services are for rent?”
Haven choked—Sera looked to him. “Are you laughing?”
He shook his head and coughed. Too obviously. He was laughing.
Sera reached for the hobbled woman, doubled over in obvious pain and embarrassment. “Oh, my,” she said, unable to keep the surprised laughter from the words as she made to help. “Mrs. Mayhew, are you quite—”
The woman snapped to her feet. “Oh, shut up,” she snapped. “You’re the scandal here. We should have known you’d bring it down upon all of us. You should have stayed in America and left your poor husband to his future. With a decent woman. One with grace and honor and fidelity.”
Silence fell as the last word came, a sharp and angry attack, and Sera could not resist the impulse to look to Malcolm, wondering if he, too, felt the shame she did. Hating what she had brought down upon them all. Her sisters, the girls, and him—him most of all.
Except it was not shame she saw in his eyes, nor even a hint of the laughter that had been there before. It was rage. It was protection. It was loyalty.
For her.
And, before she could steel herself from it, before she could keep herself from feeling it, pleasure and pride and something much much more terrifying threaded through Sera. Something with an echo of memory she had sworn not to resurrect.
The memory of the Malcolm she’d loved.
But before he could give his fury voice, Miss Mary spoke, her own ire given free rein. “I should like it noted that you ruined this, Mother,” she said, raising her voice and one long finger to her mother’s nose. “I was willing to play your silly game and come here and vie for this man’s title because I’ve always done what you and Father think I should. But these women are different and they are interesting and they are brave and so I think I should be as well. I’m not marrying the duke—though I cannot imagine I was in the running, as I cannot imagine why a man such as he would tie himself to a mother-in-law such as you. I am going home. To marry Gerald.”
Sera’s eyes went wide. “Gerald?”
“Who’s Gerald?” This from Felicity Faircloth.
“Felicity! We don’t interject into others’ personal business!” The Marchioness of Bumble found her maternal voice.
“I’ve never understood that rule, you know,” Lady Lilith said to her friend. “I mean, this personal business is very public, isn’t it?”
Mary ignored the other girls, instead turning to Sera. “I am sorry. I should never have come here. I’ve a love at home. Gerald. He’s wonderful.”
Sera could not contain her smile. This girl had such a voice. It was remarkable. “I imagine he is if he’s won you.”
“He’s a solicitor!” Mrs. Mayhew cried.
“So was Father before he was in Parliament!” Mary pointed out.
Mrs. Mayhew began to mottle. “But now . . . you could have a duke!”
“But I don’t want a duke.” She smiled at Malcolm then. “Apologies, Your Grace.”
Mal shook his head. “No offense taken.”
“I’m sure you won’t understand, but I don’t care that you are a duke. And I don’t care that he is a solicitor. I’d have him however he came.”
Malcolm’s gaze flickered past Mary to Sera. “Rat catcher.”
Sera stopped breathing.
Mary smiled. “You understand.”
“I do, rather,” he said, and still he watched Sera, seeming to understand how she struggled with the echo of their past. When he finally looked back to Mary, he said, “I am sorry we did not get more of a chance to talk.”
The young woman smiled. “I think you would not have liked me, anyway.”